The Wonder Bread Summer A Novel by Jessica Anya Blau

Author:Jessica Anya Blau
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2013-05-03T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Allie stopped at four different hotels on Cabrillo Boulevard along the beach. They were all sold out. She gave up, gave in, and went back to the Biltmore. With their elevated prices, they wouldn’t be sold out. The bread bag was dangling from her fist as Allie stood at the reception counter. There was almost four hundred dollars in her purse from the money Mike had given her, less what she paid for gas, plus what she earned in tips from hostessing.

“Can I help you?” The woman on the other side of the counter looked as tidy and fresh as a 1970s Pan Am stewardess. She didn’t hide the fact that she was examining Allie, her eyes clicking up and down as if she were checking for lice or disease.

“I’d like a room for tonight,” Allie said.

“We’re sold out for tonight.”

“No way,” Allie said. “How could you be sold out?”

“We’re often sold out weeks in advance. Can I find you a room for another night?” The woman tilted her head and forced a smile that had the same effect as if she’d given Allie the finger.

“Forget about it,” Allie mumbled. She turned and walked toward the elevators. Penny would let her sleep on the couch, especially if Allie gave her more coke.

Allie gave a rhythmic knock on Penny and Jet’s door. After a suspiciously long pause, Jet came out wearing an open silk-kimono robe. Allie didn’t look down.

“Can I talk to my mother?” Allie kept her voice matter-of-fact.

“She’s sleeping,” Jet said.

“Can I crash on the couch in your room? I’m homeless. For now.”

“Aren’t you a coed somewhere?” Jet gave a sinister smile, revealing his little, carved, dagger teeth.

“A coed?” If Allie hadn’t felt so much anger toward Jet, she would have laughed at his ancient phrasing.

“A college girl. Aren’t you in college somewhere? Don’t you have a dorm room or a sorority or something like that?”

“It’s summer. Can I talk to my mom?”

“She’s sleeping, I told you.”

“She did a whole pile of coke before the show. There’s absolutely no way she’s sleeping.”

“Where’d she get the coke?”

“Billy Idol,” Allie said, and smiled.

“She did not!” Jet waved his hand.

“Can I talk to her?” Allie leaned to either side of Jet, trying to see into the room. The lights were out. Maybe her mother was in the bathroom.

“She’s sleeping.”

“Jet! Where is she?!” Allie was growing impatient. Over the course of the day, the child-to-adult status of her relationship with Jet had irrevocably changed. She now saw him as a small-minded, small-world, perverted little pedophile.

“She’s at the bar,” Jet said.

“Why aren’t you at the bar?” Allie asked.

“I don’t like the clientele,” Jet said, and he pushed the door shut.

The stairs were faster than the elevator, so Allie trotted down. Billy Idol and his band mates were at the bar, along with all of Mighty Zamboni minus Jet. Everyone was roaring with laughter, including Penny, who sat on the lap of the black-haired drummer from Billy Idol’s band.

“OH MY GOD, LOOK WHO’S HERE!” Penny screamed.

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